Jump
by aThingwithWings
Summary: The last time Ichigo saw Rukia was five years ago, when he lost his shinigami powers and she disappeared from his life. Now, he's finally found her. IchiRuki. Be warned ye that enter! There's lemon-y action in this one...Oneshot  maybe?


He had found her.

It had taken five years, but he had finally found her.

Five years was a long time, he thought. Long enough for someone to forget a friend.

Long enough for someone to go insane.

Ichigo disregarded the last thought as he sprinted down the street, shouldering his way through the crowds of people on the sidewalk. Everyone else thought he was crazy, but he knew that he wasn't. It was only because they forgot, they all forgot…

He supposed that he should have been forgotten to; things might have been better if he had. But none of that mattered now, he concluded as he veered around the corner, because he had found her. They could never erase her.

His lungs ached for air; he had forgotten to breathe. What if she doesn't recognize me? The thought scared him for a moment; he did not even know what he looked like right now. He reminded himself to breathe. She was there, just ahead, just a few more steps-

He stretched out his arm, grabbing her wrist as she was about to step onto a bus. Her head turned in surprise, her violet eyes widening when they fell upon the man before her.

"Rukia," Ichigo wanted to say, but it would not come out, and he realized that he could not remember the last time he had spoken. All that would escape his lips was a rasp of syllables.

Rukia stepped away from the curb as the bus closed its doors and motored away. Ichigo was hardly recognizable: his hair was long and tangled, and a beard obscured the lower half of his face. His clothes needed a wash and a mend, and there were holes in his shoes. From a distance, he would have been inseparable from the other homeless men on the street.

Her hand moved almost of its own accord to his cheek, hesitating before contact as if touching him would cause the man to evaporate. It went for a safer action and pushed hair out of Ichigo's face.

"Ichigo," she said softly. "Why are you here?"

For a second his eyes clouded over, reliving the painful memories of five years ago. "I've been looking for you." The words croaked out, sounding strange and unfamiliar. "I needed to find you, to know it wasn't all a dream…" His voice trailed off, and he looked expectantly at Rukia. Now that he was here, in front of her, all his imagined conversations had faded away into nothing. He did not know what to say, what to do.

All he wanted was her.

Rukia sighed. "Come with me," she said, grasping his hand firmly. "Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

Soul Society had provided Rukia with a modest, fully-furnished apartment in downtown Tokyo for her excursions to the real world. Unfortunately, while it did have a complete wardrobe, none of it would fit Ichigo's dimensions, explaining why he was sat on the edge of Rukia's bed with nothing but a towel covering him. Rukia did her best not to think about that fact as she filled two cups with a pungent tea.

It felt like a dream as she walked to where the now clean-shaven and showered Ichigo was sitting. Five years had passed with not a sight of him, yet now here he was. Although, it would have been lying to say that she had no part in that. Rukia had assumed that by never seeing Ichigo again things would have worked themselves out, and they would have both moved on and forgotten about the other. And she had tried, every day she tried to forget.

But she could not.

And she never would.

Rukia handed Ichigo a teacup, then pulled over a chair to the edge of the bed. He stared at it uncertainly, not sure if he wished to drink the strong-smelling liquid. Rukia smirked a little at his indecision.

"That tea's a gift from Nee-san. You better drink it."

"Does he have any idea what good tea is?"

Rukia refrained from punching him. "He tends not to pick based on flavor, but on price," she told him. Ichigo rolled his eyes and quickly drank the tea. This was good, he decided. They were together, and soon enough they would be arguing and things would be back to normal.

Rukia frowned. The length of Ichigo's hair still made her cringe, no matter how clean it was. Without a word she went up and out of the room. Ichigo wondered if his comment about Byakuya had actually made her angry, but was relieved when she came back quickly. The relief diminished when he saw the scissors and comb in her hand.

Ichigo did not put up a fight; even he could see he needed a haircut. Rukia wasted no time in attacking the tangled mess, the scissors making a consistent snipping sound as she worked.

A few minutes passed in silence, Ichigo sadly watching pieces of his bright orange hair falling to the ground.

"So what's been going on in Soul Society?" he finally asked, the silence beginning to gnaw at him.

"Hardly anything's changed. It's only been a few years," she said without missing a clip. "Renji's captain now." This news made Ichigo jerk his head up, which earned him a knee to the back. "Stop moving baka. He was placed in charge of the fifth division."

When she fell silent again, Ichigo felt the need to prompt more conversation just to hear her voice. "What about you? Do you have a seat yet?"

Rukia laughed bitterly. "Me? A seated shinigami? No, not now, I have doubts if I ever will be." She quickly changed the subject. "I've been training for bankai though; Renji's helping me." Rukia repositioned herself on Ichigo's right side. "But none of that's terribly important; what's happened here?"

The question hung in the air before Ichigo like an awful specter of the past. He didn't want to tell her how he had acted fine for his friends, and had fallen into a deep depression, or how much he had missed her, missed his shinigami powers, or how, how everyone forgot.

"Nothing's happened here, and I think, I think that's the problem," he said slowly. "When you left, I thought I would be ok. And I was, until I realized how helpless I was, that I couldn't protect anyone…but I could've handled that, in time. I had friends that would have helped me. It was when- that day when-" He took a deep breath. "It was only when I woke up and no one remembered anything that happened, no one remembered you or Renji or anyone that things got…bad."

Rukia's eyes widened in shock when she heard that. She had had no knowledge that there had been an order to have everyone's memory erased. The thought of it made her incredibly angry; she would have to ask Renji about it when she returned to the Seireitei. She just could not believe that such a decision would have been made so suddenly. Then again, it probably would have been for the best if the humans had forgotten all about the other worlds.

But, apparently, something had gone wrong, and once again Ichigo had been left alone with his memories. It was a wonder that he had not gone insane.

Ichigo continued on as Rukia switched sides, still busily trimming his hair. "After that, I knew I couldn't stay there. That was two years ago, and since then I've been wandering. Looking for you." She knew he was leaving out the mental anguish he must have gone through; but that was who he was.

"Why did you come looking for me?"

"I just…I just needed to. There were things about our goodbye that I…regretted…But that's not important. Are you almost done? You've been cutting hair for forever," he grumbled, aware his subject change was nowhere near subtle.

"So impatient," Rukia admonished teasingly, twisting his ear. She slid off the bed and sat back in the chair, scooting it up so she could reach his bangs. "I'm almost done." Ichigo scowled as she deftly chopped off more of his hair. When she finished she set the scissors and comb on the floor and brushed some stray hairs out of Ichigo's face. "There, done. Taadaa," she said sarcastically, a wry grin twitching at her lips.

There was an awkward moment of silence wherein they both realized how close their faces were. Their eyes met. The air in the room suddenly seemed stifling; Ichigo could hear his heart beating and wished he could shut it up.

The dryer's buzzer went off. Rukia and Ichigo jumped apart, both trying to ignore what the previous moment had almost led to. This diversion allowed Rukia to dash off to the small alcove that housed the clothes-cleaning machines, babbling something about the timing of electronics.

She pulled the clothes out individually, taking the extra time to fold them into a neat little pile. The tension in the room behind her was palpable; even though it had been five years, just being in a room with him aroused all those emotions she had worked so hard to suppress.

_Just breathe_, she told herself. It has been five years, after all, and just because her feelings hadn't changed didn't mean that his had. Mentally, she chided herself for getting so caught up in her emotions; she was a Kuchiki, after all.

"Why didn't you come back?"

The words were sudden and unexpected; Rukia spun on her heel to find herself once again face to face with Ichigo, although now they were in the small confines of the alcove. Ichigo's brow was furrowed, though more in confusion and hurt than in anger. Rukia looked down quickly, not able to meet those eyes yet.

On a side note, she was relieved to see the towel around his waist, although it was slung rather low across his hips.

She backed up against the dryer in a vain attempt to put as much space between them as possible. "I'm sorry, it was just so …complicated-"

"Complicated?" Ichigo interjected bitterly. Rukia's head snapped up and there, there was the anger she had been expecting. Her senses heightened, she realized how powerful he still was.

For a moment, she was scared.

"Complicated?" He repeated, but the fire had gone from his eyes. He raised his hand and lightly brushed his fingertips across her cheek, running his thumb over her parted lips. "Damn Rukia, why do you have to make everything so complicated?"

Rukia wanted to come back with a witty retort but found her heart was residing in her throat, making it hard to breathe. She swallowed it back down; his hand was still resting on her face. _Damn you Ichigo_, she thought. All those years of separation were supposed to have erased these feelings; now they were back, stronger than before.

Her movement toward the machine behind her did not go unnoticed by Ichigo. His brow softened. "Why are you always running away from me? Since we first met, you've been constantly keeping this distance between us, close enough to become nakama, but when it begins to go beyond that…even now you're trying to run." Rukia kept her gaze from his face, ashamed because it was all true. Much to her dismay, he pulled her chin upward, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Will you stop, for me?"

Rukia knew the kiss was coming. She both feared it and desired it with everything in her, the contradicting feelings nearly tearing her in two. Despite her foreknowledge, she was completely unprepared for the kiss itself. The passion driving it, the pain behind it, the overwhelming emotion of his lips on hers took her breath away. Rukia fought it with all her might; she had prepared herself for this exact moment for the past five years, she would not let her emotions, her heart, her desires carry her away, because–

And just as she knew the kiss was coming, Rukia knew without a doubt that all her preparations would be for naught, for this simple reason: She loved him.

Ichigo could feel it when her defenses dropped; it surprised him, and he pulled back, looking at Rukia quizzically.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek. "I've been a coward all these years, running from you…I tried to be strong, for both of us, but I'm so tired, tired of running…" A single tear fell down her cheek, and she did not even bother covering it up; appearances did not matter now, at least not here, with him.

Running had been such a natural response for her when it came to people, and no one else questioned it, had stopped trying to get her to slow down. She had been content with loneliness; love had never been worth the risk it carried. But Ichigo, Ichigo was the exception. The only exception.

"I…I want to stop running. For you."

The passion of the previous kiss was multiplied exponentially in the one Ichigo now gave her, with Rukia replying in full force. Years of tension and separation had built up to this one moment, and all that had been held in was let out; it was similar to a dam bursting.

There were few steps to the bed in the next room. Rukia placed no protest when Ichigo lifted her up to carry her there, wrapping her lithe legs around his waist tightly. There wasn't a piece of this that she did not want to miss: the feel of his warm skin under her fingers as they explored every inch of him, or his own calloused hands as they pulled off her clothes and roamed her body; the slightly musty smell of the rarely used room, that musky scent she always knew as Ichigo's; the sound of their heavy breathing and his soft, sweet words as he entered her. She dug her fingers into his back as he began thrusting deeper, her body shuddering with pleasure.

Ichigo's movements had been clumsy at the start, overtaken by the moment as he was, but now they were strong, fluid. Rukia could feel the emotions that fueled them, the pain he felt at her absence, his anger, depression – his forgiveness and love for her. Rukia could not hold it in anymore, and let loose, clinging to Ichigo as tightly as if he were the last real thing in her world. She moaned involuntarily when his hand pushed up on the small of her back, driving him farther in as he came.

Her breathing was heavy and erratic as he slowly slid out of her. A small smile drifted across his countenance as he leaned down and kissed her softly; Rukia in turn entangled her fingers in his newly-shorn hair, holding him in place. She had never felt safer than there, in his arms, and she never wanted to leave. They pulled apart long enough for Ichigo to whisper:

"I love you, Rukia."

Rukia could only kiss him in response.

* * *

Rukia hated her cowardly self. She could not even look at her reflection in the mirror. The note she had just written explaining why she would not be there when Ichigo woke up was held limply in her hand. She just could not bring herself to place it on the nightstand and leave.

_You coward. Just say it to his face._

But there was a reason she couldn't; the same reason it had taken her six days to get to this point. That look he gave her…she had to stop thinking about it or she would not even be able to leave. She just could not stand to see the hurt in his eyes when she imagined herself telling him she had to go back to Soul Society. It would be better this way, she lied to herself, as she had so many times before.

"I'll be back," she whispered, for her own benefit. She leaned down and gently kissed the slumbering Ichigo.

"I love you."

* * *

Ichigo knew she would leave; it was only a matter of time. He would be lying to himself if he believed she would just forget about everyone else and all her duties just to be with him. Tears stung his eyes; how could he ever have thought that he meant that much to her?

He walked zombie-like to the one window of the apartment. It held a commanding view of the city below; ten stories up is known for that.

The idea of waiting to see if she would return entered his mind briefly, but something inside told him if she did, it would only be to tell him they could never be together.

He couldn't live with that.

The window was open; that made it easier. He pretended he was a shinigami again as he jumped.

He never saw her note.

* * *

**Author's Area to Talk about stoof:**

Yes, he kills himself.

So sad! D: but anywho, its my first lemon-thingy, and I thought the last chapter of bleach was deserving of one, so here you go.

It's not too awful, is it? (I'm not gonna lie, definately closed my eyes while writing parts of it. I just felt like I was intruding or something...) Its pretty dang short, I'll admit, but that's as hardcore as I could bring myself to write (which isn't very hardcore at all). I'm such a pansy...

On a different note, I actually have more of this story in my head, so it could definately be longer. What do you think: extend, or let it die peacefully, cuz its awful? Let me know, cuz I love to hear your sweet, sweet comments.

P.S. - have I ever told you how much I don't like writing lemon? I probably have...well, it sure did stretch me to write this. And I'm not even lying to myself; it's really on the verge of lime-y, and is very not very lemon-y. Apologies.

P.P.S. - Don't expect an update for Your Call anytime in the near week or two. My senior paper is due next friday, and I should really be working on that instead of writing this, but it needed to be written before the next chapter comes out...so yeah. But stay tuned!


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